


Venice Beach

by Persephone



Series: Sean and Viggo Sitting In A Tree [3]
Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Floor Sex, Los Angeles, M/M, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-12
Updated: 2011-12-12
Packaged: 2017-10-27 05:39:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/292218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persephone/pseuds/Persephone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sean is in L.A. for his movie’s premiere, and would like very much to see Viggo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Venice Beach

“Sean, you have fifteen minutes before your car’s here.” His assistant poked her head into the room. “The girls are all set.”

“Right, thank you.”

Sean rifled faster. Through his jeans pockets, through his black dinner jacket pockets, tossing shirts and garment bags off the bed. He swept his hand over the surface of the writing table, looking for that piece of paper with Viggo’s number on it.

Christ, why had he been so stupid as to write it on such a tiny piece of paper?

He stopped and slumped for a moment, letting out a deep breath. _Think. Think!_

He went over his movements step by step after he spoke with Viggo while he was still in London, how he had told himself to put the piece of paper somewhere safe and obvious so he wouldn’t lose it.

He dropped to one knee and unzipped the small pocket on the inside of his suitcase and pulled out his daily organizer. He unzipped the leather binding and stuck his fingers into the tight slots.

Nothing. _Argh!_

He pushed back up to his feet and collapsed against the chest of drawers, resting on his hip. Okay. He thought he sort of knew Viggo’s number off the top of his head. He would give it a go, and if it turned out a wrong number, he’d just hang up.

He turned and picked up the receiver, moving the base of the phone for a better dialing angle. The movement revealed a white folded piece of paper half under the phone.

He stared stupidly at it, then snatched it up and opened it. He swore. Of course it was the bloody number. He’d placed it right by the phone as soon as he’d gotten to the room because it was the best place to remember it.

He dialed the number, then stood licking his lips nervously as it rang. And rang, and rang. A voice recording eventually engaged. He felt a smile begin to play around the corners of his mouth as he listened to Viggo’s soft voice breathing down the line, getting him more and more excited, until he was no longer smiling.

The message finished playing and the beep sounded just as he cleared his throat. _Arrgh._  
Should have done that beforehand. Didn't want that to get recorded.

“Hey, Viggo,” he said, except he was whispering. He twisted his earlobe and laughed self consciously down the line. “It’s me,” he said, then laughed again. _Me, who, right?_

“Sean!”

It was another call from his assistant.

Sean spoke fast into the phone. “You know, I didn’t even think to invite you to the bloody premiere. Right, anyway, got into town. I’ll call you when I get back later on.” He felt one side of his mouth lifting. “Hopefully I can see you then?” _Well, why else?_ The other side of his mouth joined in. “Yeah. See you then.”

He replaced the receiver and hurried out the door.

He felt fantastic.

He smiled at every camera in sight at the premiere. He shook hands with everyone who extended their arm, he hugged his girls close, he enjoyed the movie tremendously. He ate all the little finger foods off the trays that passed under his nose. But he stayed away from the alcohol. All he’d had was one glass of the bubbly and he was feeling downright school girlish. Terrible.

He grinned at no one in particular.

By eleven thirty he had been at the after party long enough, his girls long returned to the hotel and to bed, so he displayed the body language needed for his assistant to come by and extricate him from his circle of people.

She made to enter the limo with him. He placed his hand on her arm and said, “I’ll go alone,” in a low voice. She nodded and waited on the red carpet, milling with people coming and going. The limo drove off.

Pasadena was quite a ways from the Four Seasons Hotel in Beverly Hills, and from there, a ways to Venice. So cut out the middle destination. He swept his eyes around and found the limo’s phone. He would call Viggo and let him know he was done, and could he come straight over?

It was then he realized he didn’t have the bloody piece of paper with Viggo’s number on it!

He growled and threw his head back against the seat, still clutching the receiver. He had been to Viggo’s place once, over a year ago. Maybe he could remember it off the top of his head?

No, Venice was a bloody maze. And Viggo might have moved.

He replaced the receiver while staring at the dark glass separating his side of the limo from the driver’s side. These L.A. limo drivers knew everything. He pushed the button to lower the glass.

“Driver,” he said politely. “I’ve got a bit of an odd question for you.”

“There are no odd questions in my line of business, Mr. Bean.”

Sean smiled widely. “Aye, come to think of it. Erm, do you know where Viggo Mortensen lives? In Venice?”

He held his breath.

“Yes, sir. Would you like me to take you there?”

Sean grinned at the man’s eyes in the rear view mirror. “Yes, please. And thank you.”

He pressed the button to send the glass back up, and sat back. He closed his eyes and tried to stop smiling while he got off on the feeling of blood pumping into his cock. He refused to think about what he would do if Viggo wasn’t there. He’d wait awhile, he supposed.

It was a bit of a long ride, and Venice was lit with small street lamps and dim in most areas. Now that he thought about it, should a limo really go into a place as unostentatious as Venice Beach?

“Aren’t we going to draw a lot of attention?” he said into the intercom.

“No, sir,” the driver replied. “Venice Beach or not, this is still L.A. People see a limo, they draw their own conclusions.”

Sean peered out of his side, and though the window was dark he could see glimpses of the streets, and remembered them as narrow and sharply angled. So no one would comment, but how was the driver going to fit the limo into the streets in the first place? But he didn’t say anything. He was asking too many bloody questions, when he was so close now.

A few minutes later, they pulled up in front of a row of houses. He frowned as he looked around. He didn’t remember any of this at all.

“Here we are,” the driver said through the intercom. “Do you know what number it is?”

“Yeah,” Sean said, surprised that he did. If Viggo hadn’t moved, that is.

He remained seated, thinking he should send the driver home, and call his assistant later. It would be less conspicuous.

But what if Viggo wasn’t home? Ah, crap.

“Can you, uh, wait here, please,” he mumbled to the driver. “I’ll see if he’s home.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Um. If he _is_ at home, I might not need a car till… Well, then you can leave and I’ll call for another car. That way—” But how would the driver know if Viggo was home? “I won’t be coming back out, if he’s home.”

He stopped talking. He was prattling. But he wanted to cover all bases.

“Sir,” the driver said. “If you like, I can check for you, so you don’t have to get out of the car.”

Sean sighed. “Yeah, thanks.”

He told the driver the number. The man left and came back in less than a minute and opened his side door. He told him Viggo was expecting him.

Sean climbed out of the car and kept his head down. He strode to the door he had somehow correctly remembered was Viggo’s, and knocked once.

It opened and a hand shot out, clamped on his forearm, and yanked him inside. He coughed in surprise and stumbled in, looking around in bewilderment as the door clicked shut behind him.

It was so dark in the hallway he couldn’t see down it, but he didn’t need to be looking that far. Viggo was standing right in front of him, his hair spiky and longish, his teeth pale in the available light.

Sean smiled wide and fell backwards against the door. “Hallo, Vig,” he said, not meaning to sound so hoarse. Viggo grabbed the back of his head and jerked his head forward just an inch or so.

“Hey, Sean,” Viggo replied in mock seriousness. “Nice to see you again. How’s the career going? Any new projects on the horizon? What’s your availability? I’ve got this big hot director I’d like you to meet.”

Sean laughed breathlessly. He was nervous now. Viggo was joking around, but Sean was done with the industry function and was in no condition to play with him. And even at his best times he couldn’t keep up.

Viggo leaned his body into Sean’s, dropping his right arm out of sight, twirling his hand round and round against Sean’s crotch. Sean got hotter and hotter, sweating under his arms until he was soaking his nice party shirt.

Viggo breathed on his open mouth. “Are you wearing any boxers or briefs?”

He shook his head hard and fast, breathing back, trying to slide his tongue far out enough that it would touch Viggo’s mouth at least. He was having no luck.

“So… your jeans must be getting a bit sticky,” Viggo whispered. Sean tried to close his lips over Viggo’s moving mouth. No luck there, either.

One spot on his jeans _was_ getting sticky, and spreading. Viggo pressed forward, pressing his crotch into him and wrapping one leg around his. He gyrated slowly. Sean’s hands dropped and held onto his hips to feel the movement.

“Fuck,” Viggo growled, and Sean’s cock pounded because Viggo actually sounded irritated. Viggo could get quite firm when he was irritated. “Your jeans are annoying,” Viggo muttered distinctly.

He released the back of Sean’s head and crotch and used both hands to unbutton first his jacket, pushing it off his shoulders, then his jeans, pulling them off his hips. He knelt and pulled off Sean’s black dress boots, and straightened to pull the jeans off the rest of the way.

Sean stepped out of the jeans and bent down and forward as Viggo took his hand and slowly went from a kneeling position onto his back, right there in the front hallway. He was watching Sean.

Sean knelt astride him and looked down to see his cock hard and beginning to leak. But all he saw was the shirttail over it. He began unbuttoning his shirt.

“What are you doing?” Viggo asked softly, teasingly.

Sean pressed his lips together and met his eyes. “Takin’ me shirt off.”

“Keep it on,” Viggo smiled, shoving his hand into the pocket of his tracksuit pants. He pulled out a small tube and a row of condom packets and placed them on the floor next to him. When he reached for Sean’s hips, Sean lowered and straddled him.

Sean gasped at the slippery material of Viggo’s pants, the way it made his ass slide so easily over Viggo’s cock and settle over it. Viggo was one long hard ridge between his cheeks, pushing up against him, using his hands to force Sean’s hips backwards over his lovely slippery pants as he did so. Viggo slowly dropped his head backwards. Sean breathed shallowly, riding him slowly, half naked, watching Viggo writhe under him, fully clothed.

He liked that he could make Viggo wriggle like that. He enjoyed it while he could, because Viggo was going to start on him soon.

As soon as he finished the thought Viggo’s head came off the floor and their eyes met. “Pull my pants down,” Viggo instructed.

Sean rose on his knees and pulled down.

“That’s fine,” Viggo said when they were half way down his thighs. Sean stopped, still bent over him. He stared down at Viggo’s cock, blinking slowly and licking his lips.

Viggo lifted his hips off the floor a little. “Want it?”

Sean laughed, and kept his head down because it was his shy laugh.

“Bean wants it,” Viggo teased softly, then suggested officiously, “Why don’t you suck it.”

Sean’s laughter became more breathless. Viggo had smelled blood and was going to put him through the wringer.

“Oh my word, Sean,” Viggo breathed, and squirmed with just his hips. He slid his hands across Sean’s shoulders and clasped them loosely behind his head. “When did you get to be such a tease?”

Sean felt hot everywhere, his nipples, his balls, his head. This is what he had come for, this crazy man saying things like this to him.

He put his mouth on the tip of Viggo’s cock and Viggo pushed up. Sean gripped his hips and took it, sucking long and hard, then sliding his mouth off. When he got back to the tip, Viggo pushed back up against the pressure of Sean’s hands on his hips.

Viggo shoved his hands under his T-shirt, which he still hadn’t taken off, and ran them across his chest. He let out a deep growl from his throat. “Put the condom on me, Sean.”

Sean reached, tore, rolled on. He watched Viggo’s open mouth, watched his arms moving under his T-shirt, watched his whole body writhing on the floor as if he couldn’t stay still under Sean’s hands.

He pushed the condom down securely against his base, and slid his hand under and cupped Viggo’s balls.

“Now the lube,” Viggo groaned immediately.

Sean squirted half the tube over the tip and stroked down once. Viggo groaned louder and thrashed a little. Sean’s tongue slid out half way.

“Climb on, Sean,” Viggo finally whispered, and Sean did.

Sean leaned backward and gripped Viggo’s thighs behind him, above the knees, then sank down slowly. He moaned, a small, satisfied sound.

Viggo’s hands slid over the front of his thighs, down the sides, up again, and around to cup his ass. Sean let out one shaking breath after another.

“If that’s all you got,” Viggo mumbled, “then you might as well go home.”

Sean growled softly. Viggo sat up and hauled Sean’s ass into his crotch. He moved his mouth across his chest and abruptly bit down on Sean’s nipple through the silk shirt.

Sean shouted and dropped his head backwards.

“That’s better,” Viggo cackled into his chest. “That’s what we’re here for. Okay, Sean,” he whispered suddenly. “Let’s fuck each other.”

Sean planted his feet on either side of Viggo and rocked his hips hard and fast. Viggo held him tight with his hands on his ass, his teeth on his nipple.

“You’re bloody filthy, Vig,” he panted. Viggo’s hands spread his cheeks wider and his fingers slid against him. Sean gasped up at the ceiling. “Just like me.”

He was choking on his breathing now. He clenched Viggo’s thighs and pistoned on the slick cock inside him. Viggo’s hand began flicking up and down the length of his cock, leaving him with just seconds before he shouted and shuddered and climaxed.

Once his cock spasmed its last gasp, Viggo twisted hard and Sean found himself on his back, the backs of his knees hooking Viggo’s shoulders forward into his chest. Viggo’s hands gripped his biceps roughly, giving his hips leverage. Sean’s mouth dropped open, savoring the feel of Viggo’s weight pounding into him. Where in god’s name did Viggo learn to fuck like that?

Viggo’s mouth descended on his and slid all over it. Their tongues tangled. Viggo started grunting into his mouth. He was going to come. Sean wrapped his arms around his waist, sucked on his tongue, pulled him tight. Viggo came hard and intensely, convulsing on top of him.

When he was drained, he slowly reached down and pulled out, keeping a hold on the condom before carefully pulling it off. He collapsed onto his back and Sean remained where he was on his back, waiting to catch his breath.

After a while he felt Viggo’s hand trailing through his hair. “We’re sporting the same hair cut,” Viggo yawned. Then he said, “You _reeeally_ like me, don’t you Sean? Don’t try to deny it,” and Sean could hear him grinning.

Sean laughed quietly at the ceiling. “Aye,” he said. “I really do.”

 _End_


End file.
